


that wasn't in the script

by aegious



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M, guest appearances from about half of mankai company!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25620472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aegious/pseuds/aegious
Summary: Tenma’s hands ball into the fabric of his jeans. “Arisu-san wrote it—helped me write it.”“For me?” Sakuya blinks, his mouth open in a tinyo.His hands are sweaty as he runs through a billion possible answers he can give. “Yeah, it’s—for you. You know.”Five times Tenma tries (and fails) to confess to Sakuya, and one time Sakuya confesses to Tenma.
Relationships: Sakuma Sakuya/Sumeragi Tenma
Comments: 16
Kudos: 123





	that wasn't in the script

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tsubasa_chouko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsubasa_chouko/gifts).



> this is a commission i wrote for [tsubasa!](https://twitter.com/tsusubabasasa/) thank you so much, i really enjoyed writing this!

Banri exchanges a particular look with Tsumugi, who returns it with much softer edges—something closer to pity. Tenma bristles, ready to defend his honor against whatever they’re about to say.

Banri breaks into loud guffaws, slapping his knee for added dramatic effect. “Seriously, dude?”

“Banri-kun…” Tsumugi tries, but as good an actor as Tsumugi is, he can’t hide the light, airy quality of his voice.

“I’m serious!” Tenma exclaims, stomping his foot in righteous indignation and absolutely _not_ like a petulant child. “Don’t make fun of me.”

Banri schools his features, biting his lip to smother his shit-eating grin. “I can’t believe you just told us you have a crush on Sakuya.”

“Wh–what’s wrong with that?” Tenma’s heart flips over in his chest.

Banri snorts. “It’s just—it’s so obvious! With the way you can’t stop looking at him with big ol’ doe eyes? I’ve known for _months.”_

Heat rushes to Tenma’s face so quickly that he loses sight for a moment. “I only just found out! How could you possibly have known?”

Banri buries his face and groans.

“Tsumugi-san…” Tenma pleads, trying his best to ignore Banri’s cruel, condemning laughter.

Tsumugi just chuckles nervously. He doesn’t look Tenma in the eye when he answers. “Most of the others don’t know…”

_“Most?!”_ Tenma squeaks. “Who else—?”

The door to the practice room clicks open.

“Good morning!” Sakuya calls as he comes in, and Tenma completely short circuits. “Sorry I’m a little late. Citron got me caught up in a game and wouldn’t let me leave!”

“Mornin’, Sakuya,” Banri drawls, stretching with exaggerated movements. His voice drips with something that makes Tenma’s blood run cold. “We were just talking about you.”

Tenma whips his head around to face him. “Banri-san!”

“You were?” Sakuya asks, glancing at all three of them as if trying to read their minds. “Was it about the meeting?”

“No, no, it’s just…” Banri sends a look toward Tenma, one that chills the air around him and sends goosebumps up his arms. “Tenma here wanted to tell you something.”

Tsumugi hums under his breath. “Banri-kun…”

Banri dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Tenma, if you will.”

Sakuya looks at Tenma expectantly, eyes wide and lips curled into an innocent smile. He has no idea what thoughts are running through Tenma’s head. Truthfully, _Tenma_ doesn’t know what thoughts are running through his head, except for the very loud wordless screaming that rattles his brain.

“I…” Tenma tries, but his throat closes up before he can utter another syllable. All he can see is Sakuya’s smile; all he can hear is Banri’s poorly smothered laughter. His face is burning.

“You…” Sakuya repeats, as if trying to coax out the words. “What?”

“I, uh,” Tenma forces out. His mouth is dry. Sakuya is still smiling. Banri is still laughing.

“He wanted to tell you that Spring Troupe’s performance last night was fantastic,” Tsumugi says, resting a comforting hand on Tenma’s shoulder. Suddenly, Tenma can breathe again. Banri’s snickering cuts off.

“R–right!” He sends a prayer to the gods thanking them for Tsumugi’s very existence. “The play! It was, uh, really good.”

Sakuya lights up, snatching the air from Tenma’s lungs again. “Really? Thanks, Tenma-kun! We all worked hard on our ad-libbing for it. I don’t think any of us expected Citron to start a manzai skit in the middle of Tsuzuru’s death scene.”

Tsumugi nods along. “It created a surreal sort of dissonance within the plot, so it was kind of refreshing in a way.”

Tenma looks over at Banri. Banri stares back, eyebrow raised accusingly.

_Next time,_ he mouths, and Tenma’s heart nearly stops.

* * *

“Tenma!”

Somehow, his name being called from an unknown location in Citron’s voice doesn’t activate Tenma’s fight or flight response quickly enough, and he finds himself tackled off the couch before he can even react.

“Gh—Get off of me!” Tenma pushes at Citron, but this guy is freakishly strong and way too motivated for any normal person.

Well, he’s part of MANKAI Company. “Normal people” are far and few between here.

“Citron, you were supposed to help me.” There’s shuffling from down the hall, and Tenma cranes his neck up to see over Citron’s wiggling body. He’s pretty sure it’s Itaru, but he can barely see the two-tone hair over the tower of precariously balanced gaming consoles in his arms. Banri is on one side of him to stabilize the stack.

“I thought the director banned gaming parties out here,” Tenma says flatly, still trying to push Citron off of him. He clings tight.

Banri tenses up. “That was Hyodo’s fault.”

“Juza wasn’t even there,” Itaru points out from behind the consoles.

“It was his fault for looking like the miniboss.” He continues shuffling forward with the stack until they pass the couch, then eases Itaru to a stop.

“Oh, of course, that’s why you broke the TV.” Itaru scoffs, and then one by one, they lay out the consoles around Tenma like some kind of demonic summoning circle.

“What the hell are you doing…” Tenma groans miserably.

“We are going to teach you all about lust!” Citron exclaims, finally letting go of Tenma to sit up straight and proper, as if he were a professor.

“Love,” Itaru corrects gently as he sets down the last console and wrings out his arms. “We’re going to teach him about love.”

Citron nods seriously. “Right!”

“Love?” Tenma repeats, disliking the taste of the word on his tongue. “Why?”

“To help you confess to Sakuya,” Itaru explains with a frown, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world.

Tenma freezes, then turns woodenly to face Banri. “You didn’t.”

Banri’s smirk is confirmation enough. “If you’re gonna be a wuss about it, I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

“Then what’s with all these… _these?”_ Tenma gestures wildly to the consoles on the floor. “What do these have to do with it?”

Itaru squats down to the floor and pats the PS4 as if it were a pet dog. “Think of this confession as a main quest.”

Tenma shakes his head. “I’m not doing this.”

“No, no, listen,” Citron continues. “You must battle many enemies to gain strength and experience, and only then may you challenge the final boss Sakuyus, Lord of Hell!”

“I’m not gonna kill him?!” Tenma protests. Itaru snickers, already plugging some cords into the TV.

“As if you could.” Banri scoffs. “Sakuyus has a defense score of over a thousand.”

Tenma throws an arm wide. “He’s not even a game character! Why did you bring all these consoles out here, anyway?”

“They’re catalysts,” Itaru explains. “To awaken the warrior inside you.”

Citron lifts one of Tenma’s arms, jiggles it a little, and then lets it drop. “His warrior is deep, deep inside him.”

“Itaru-san just wanted an excuse to play on the big TV,” Banri says, jerking his thumb toward Itaru, who has already settled on the couch, controller in hand.

“Tenma can play, too,” Itaru insists. “I have plenty of dating sims he can practice with.”

Dating sims… don’t sound like the _worst_ idea, so maybe—no. Absolutely not. Not with these three, at least.

The front door opens to reveal Sakuya and Juza and one too many crepes between them both. His cheeks are flushed from the summer heat, and he’s wearing a cute striped button-up that only draws more attention to him. He takes a bite of his crepe; when he pulls away, some creme sticks to his nose, a dollop of white that has Tenma’s stomach flipping.

Tenma feels weak, like he might collapse even though he’s already on the floor.

“Oh!” Citron exclaims, reaching out and tugging on Tenma’s arm. “The Lord of Hell has been summoned! It is up to you to spill his blood and end his reign of terror!”

Tenma waves his hands in front of him, a clear, firm _no._ “I’m not doing that!”

“He’s only a level one noob, anyway,” Itaru says, his voice distant as he mashes buttons on some fighting game. “It’d be a one hit K.O. for sure.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Sakuya comes closer, peering at the demonic circle of consoles around the sacrificial Tenma.

“Nothing!” Tenma yells a little too desperately to play it off. “N–nothing. Just playing games with the guys.”

Itaru snorts. “Sure is.”

“It sounds fun! Can I join?” Sakuya’s smile is so bright that Tenma is sure he’s gonna go blind.

“Of course,” Tenma finds himself saying despite all evidence telling him what a bad idea that is, for the sake of his sanity. But Sakuya lets out a whoop of joy and joins Itaru on the couch, and his excitement hits Tenma in the chest so hard he’s surprised it hasn’t bruised already.

“Hey, Hyodo,” Banri calls. “Get over here so I can kick your ass!”

Juza grunts, his mouth too full of crepe to form any meaningful words, but he comes over nonetheless, his eyebrows furrowed with determination.

“Sakuyus proves to be a much harder foe to topple,” Citron laments. “You must train harder, Tenma.”

Panic wells up in Tenma’s gut. “No, I don’t!”

“Sakuyus? What’s that?” Sakuya questions, tilting his head a little. The creme is still on his nose.

“It’s nothing! Just forget it!”

* * *

“Are you sure about this?” Tenma asks, curling his fingers into the fabric of his jeans to stop him from crinkling the letter in his hands.

“Of course!” To accentuate his confidence, Homare flings an arm wide, gesturing dramatically at the envelope that Tenma’s trying his best not to destroy. “This is a foolproof plan. Anyone with eyes and a brain will be falling over themselves upon reading such an emotional, impassioned poem! After all, it is I who helped you create it, yes?”

“That’s what I’m worried about…” Tenma mumbles under his breath.

“Did you say something?”

“Nothing!”

Homare hums doubtfully, peering down his nose at him. “If you are doubting my expertise, I assure you my poetry has the power to move even the hardest of hearts.”

“I don’t think that’s a problem here.” Tenma rubs a thumb over the paper, clumsily tracing the spot where Sakuya’s name is written in precise, angular strokes. “Sakuya’s got the purest heart out of all of us.”

Homare shouts wordlessly, dramatically, spinning on his heel with a hand raised toward the sky, as if he were beckoning toward someone Tenma can’t see. “Ah, youth! You who so innocently pour forth your emotions like Victoria in a hurricane. I must admit, I’m jealous of that unrestrained affection.”

Tenma stares at Homare, trailing his eyes from the tips of his poised fingers, to his other hand pressed against his chest, to his pained expression, his quivering lip. “Is that so, Homare-san.”

“Oh, absolutely,” he responds seriously, nodding once.

Tenma gives up, deciding it’s not worth it to press further. Besides, at this point, they’ve been standing in front of room 101 for at least five minutes, like a pair of stalkers. It’s a wonder the police haven’t been called yet. “Thanks for your help, Homare-san. I’ve got it from here.”

“Oh?” Homare peers down his nose at him. “Then I shall leave you two be. May the buds of romance bloom magnificently on your tree of life, young Romeo!”

“That’s Sakuya’s role,” Tenma points out.

Homare gasps as he reconsiders. “Then it seems you are Juliet calling upon your fated one. Marvelous!”

With that, he quite nearly dances away, strange poetry falling from his lips in rhyming couplets.

“Can’t I at least be Julius…?” Tenma shakes his head and steels his nerves before knocking on the door. There’s a moment of silence, save for the echoes of a poem from down the hallway long after Homare has disappeared, and then the door opens with a quiet click that sends Tenma’s heart racing.

Of course Sakuya is the one to open the door. Giving him time to calm down would be too generous.

“Tenma-kun!” Sakuya chirps, his smile like the sun that blossoms the buds on that tree thing Homare was talking about. “What’s up?”

“Uh…” Tenma grips the letter in his hand, finally crinkling it despite his best efforts. “This. It’s for you.”

“Me? Thanks!” Sakuya’s brow ruffles. “I think. What is it?”

Tenma thrusts the letter at him. “Just read it.”

With a little hum and a tilt of his head, Sakuya opens the letter and scans the page once, twice, three times, and then a fourth for good measure. When he looks back up, there’s a funny little quirk to his mouth. “What is this?”

“It’s… a poem,” Tenma explains, glancing off to the side. “For you.”

“Dancing petals prance, harmonic crossed stars. Your lush blush is flush in my mind. I call your name: a blossom pined.” Sakuya pauses. “I don’t really get it.”

“It’s, uh.” Tenma rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, glaring holes into the paper in Sakuya’s hands. Homare said it would work!

“Did Homare-san write it?” he guesses. “But usually he just recites it in person…”

Tenma’s hands ball into the fabric of his jeans. “Arisu-san wrote it—helped me write it.”

“For me?” Sakuya blinks, his mouth open in a tiny _o._

His hands are sweaty as he runs through a billion possible answers he can give. “Yeah, it’s—for you. You know.”

Sakuya’s eyebrows pull in, and his smile is questioning and confused. “You’re all red, Tenma-kun. Are you feeling okay?” He reaches out as if to feel Tenma’s forehead, but the motion causes Tenma’s body to kick into overdrive, darting out of the way because if Sakuya touches him with those gentle, slender fingers he _will_ collapse right there and then this day will turn out much differently than planned.

“Nope! I’m all good,” he says, trying his best to ignore the way Sakuya frowns, glances back at the poem in his hands. “It’s just a little hot out, that’s all. No big deal.”

Sakuya nods once, eyes moving across the page again. If Tenma looks hard enough, he can see a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. But then he blinks, and Sakuya is back to normal. “You’re right. It has been getting a little warm recently. Um… thank you. For the poem, I mean.”

“The—” Tenma shakes his head and steps back. “Right! The poem. Don’t worry about it. You know how Arisu-san is. He, uh, wanted me to give it to you.”

“But I thought you said you wrote it with him,” Sakuya counters, breaking through Tenma’s masterfully crafted excuse like it was nothing.

Tenma swallows as he feels his footing give way and he falls from the perch of confidence on which he stood. “Yeah! Yeah. He did most of the work, though.” All of the work, he amends to himself. “It doesn’t mean anything, anyway.”

“Okay…” Sakuya looks at the poem again. “Are you sure you’re okay, Tenma-kun?”

“Great! Never better.” Tenma pulls out his phone and looks at its black, blank screen. “Looks like Yuki needs help with something, so I better go.”

“But—”

Tenma is already jogging away, desperate to get out of here. “I’ll see you at practice later!”

“Tenma-kun!” Sakuya calls after him, but Tenma forces himself to keep going, unable to look at Sakuya any longer. “Thanks for the poem!”

His heart squeezes in his chest even as he tells himself that Sakuya couldn’t possibly have understood what that poem was even about.

That tree of life or whatever, he reasons, will have to wait just a bit longer.

* * *

“I can’t believe even the director is in on this…” Tenma groans miserably to himself.

“In on what?” Sakuya asks. He looks up from the produce stand where he’s examining a papaya, only to turn that scrutiny on Tenma.

“Nothing.” He looks away to avoid Sakuya’s gaze, picking up random produce from the spreads and trying not to gag when he realizes he’s grabbed a bunch of carrots. When Sakuya finally turns away, somehow accepting Tenma’s response without question, he glances around to make sure no one else is watching and sets the carrots back down.

“I was surprised the director asked us to go shopping together!” Sakuya picks up a tomato and weighs it in his palm. “You don’t usually go out on errands like this, Tenma-kun.”

“It’s a… special occasion.” Tenma stumbles over the words, but he doesn’t want to hide from it, either. Izumi went through all the trouble to set up this alone time with Sakuya, so he should probably use it. At least, he wants to use it. He wants to tell Sakuya his feelings, _finally,_ after so many wrong turns.

He swallows a lump in his throat.

“You know, Sakuya, I’ve been meaning to, um, tell you something.” He picks up a potato, barely looking at it before throwing it into his basket. Sakuya pauses his inspection and looks up, eyes wide and unassuming. Tenn’s heart leaps right back up into his throat, his pulse pounding wildly in his ears.

“What is it?” Sakuya asks, a perfect portrait of innocence. “Is something wrong?”

Somehow, he manages to find his voice. “No! It’s just that—”

Tenma cuts himself off when he feels eyes boring holes into his back. He tries to shake it off, start again, but the feeling of being watched keeps growing, and then he suddenly remembers exactly why he doesn’t go shopping in public.

“Is that Sumeragi Tenma?” someone asks in a voice too loud to be called a whisper.

Oh, no.

“Sakuya.” Tenma grips Sakuya’s shoulders, perhaps a little too hard, too desperately.

“T–Tenma-kun…?” Sakuya is wide-eyed, staring frightfully into Tenma’s. He looks like a deer in headlights, or a rabbit before a wolf.

“I have to go.” He can already feel the other shoppers encroaching on him, slowly, descending on him like hungry vultures, as if the roles have flipped and he’s become the deer in the aftermath of its encounter with the headlights, like he’s the rabbit after it becomes food for the wolf. “Immediately.”

He feels Sakuya go rigid under his touch. “Why?”

“Things are about to get bad,” is the only response Tenma can give. “You need to go, too.”

Tenma wants to pull Sakuya closer, to protect him from the mob of people slowly cutting off all viable exits. But if he does that, then Sakuya will be stuck here, too. So he pushes him, his hands cold in the absence of Sakuya’s presence, and waves him away.

“Tenma-ku—!”

“Mr. Sumeragi!” An elderly lady bumps Sakuya to the side as she forces her way between them. “May I have your autograph for my niece?”

Tenma blinks, and Sakuya disappears among the shoppers, even his colorful hair lost to the tide of arms and shopping baskets as more and more people shove their way toward him.

“Sumeragi Tenma-san!” a younger, higher pitched voice calls. “I’ve watched all your movies!”

“Uh, thank you,” he responds, not even looking in her direction. Instead, he pushes himself onto his toes and scans the crowd for any sign of Sakuya. But he can’t see a tuft of pink hair or his cute gray hoodie at all, and he realizes that Sakuya has either managed to escape or has been buried underfoot the fans.

He really, really hopes it’s the former.

An older man approaches him, crumpled shopping list in hand. “Sumeragi-san, my mother and I love your work. Will you sign this please?”

Without even waiting for a response, the list and a pen are shoved in his face. It’s normal, really, and he can’t say he minds it, but his eyes keep wandering back beyond the crowd, the faces of the fans all melding together in their homogeny. They’re not what he’s looking for, anyway.

But he still can’t find Sakuya.

“Sumeragi-san!”

“I—” Tenma spares one last glance to the faceless crowd, then turns back to the fans pushing their way to the front. He’ll have to apologize to Sakuya later, but right now there are more important things. Namely, keeping his reputation spotless. So he flashes a too-bright smile, one with unnatural dramatics that Izumi would chastise him for. “Thank you.”

“Will you shake my hand?”

“Anything for you,” Tenma says smoothly, picking himself up and puffing out his chest. A young girl fits her tiny hand in his and shakes it up and down with a vigor that moves Tenma’s whole body.

“Please sign this!”

“Yeah, of course I’ll—” Tenma glances at the bottle of soy sauce in the woman’s right hand, at the marker in her left. “Of course I’ll sign it.”

* * *

Tenma is almost entirely certain that it shouldn’t take two hours to get to the park from the dorms. He is also almost entirely certain that they’ve passed this street sign at least three times now, but considering they haven’t made any turns he can’t even begin to think how that’s possible.

“Are you sure we’re not l—”

“We’re not lost,” Tenma grits out between clenched teeth, refusing to look at Sakuya. He can’t, not when he’s fighting so hard to keep an embarrassed flush off his face. “It’s… the scenic route.”

“Where are we going?” Sakuya asks, leaning over to look Tenma in the eyes—big mistake. His eyes are wide and bright, and his lips are upturned in a cute little smile. “Maybe I can help!”

Tenma looks away because he can’t possibly face him right now. “I told you it’s a surprise.”

“Ah, right.” Sakuya deflates, and Tenma fishes in his pocket for his phone. Google Maps is supposed to help directionless bastards find their way, right? It’ll probably point them in the right direction, and then the picnic for Sakuya that he planned with Omi and Kazunari will be a success, and then he’ll finally confess to Sakuya.

All according to plan.

Except when he opens the app and tries searching for the park, he realizes he has no earthly idea what he’s looking at. The square blocks are… buildings, probably, and the lines are—those are definitely roads. Tenma squints at the screen.

“What’s wrong?” Sakuya asks.

“Nothing!” Tenma runs a hand through his hair and brings the phone closer to his face. Is that the kanji for green or edge? What’s the difference again…?

And when he looks up to compare the streets on the app to the street signs around him, he can’t even find that kanji _anywhere._

They’re totally, completely lost.

“Are we lost?” Sakuya asks in that innocent voice of his even while he peers into Tenma’s mind and rips out his very thoughts.

Tenma grips his phone tighter to counter his urge to throw it and groans miserably. “Never mind! It wasn’t here. Let’s just go home.”

Sakuya splutters incredulously as Tenma furiously taps out a message to Igawa to come pick them up. “Are you sure? We’ve already been gone two hours…”

“Don’t rub it in,” Tenma mutters under his breath. “No, it’s fine. It’s already been ruined, anyway.”

“What has?” Sakuya hums, shakes his head. “Actually, never mind. Let’s do something else, then!”

“Something else…?” Tenma ponders the option. He’s not even sure where they _are_ right now, much less what there is to do around here.

In a motion that probably means way less to Sakuya than it does to him, Sakuya puts his hand over Tenma’s, preventing him from sending that email. “We’ve been out for a while now, right? Let’s go get something to drink.”

Tenma.exe stops working. “Oh. Uh.”

“Do you not want to?” Sakuya’s upturned face is pulled down in a pout, eyes big and pleading. And if Tenma wasn’t already totally gone, he’s beyond that now.

“S–sure,” he manages—it’s really all he _can_ manage. They’re too close, and Sakuya’s hand is warm on his, and everything feels right and wrong at the same time. Because he messed up again; he couldn’t confess. He completely missed his opportunity, and he can only blame himself and the fact that maps are impossible to read.

Sakuya grins, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Banri-kun told me about a really good café in the area. Let’s go there!”

To be honest, Tenma has stopped listening, his brain too mushy to do much else than simply hear the bright, cheery tenor of Sakuya’s voice. He considers confessing now, even if it deviates from his perfectly planned picnic.

“I like—”

“Huh?” Sakuya’s hands are still on his, warm and gentle. “Have you been there before?”

Tenma deflates, his confidence expelling from his body with his breath. He should just give up. There’s no way he can do this. And this whole thing—getting them lost, losing his nerve, wasting the perfectly good food Omi made—it’s the universe telling him to stop. The stars aren’t aligned, or something.

“Yeah, it’s pretty good,” he lies, and lets Sakuya lead the way, since they’ve both realized by now that Tenma leading will only result in a disaster.

Tenma forces himself to think they’re just better off as friends, that there’s no way he can make the leap to anything else. Not now, not ever.

* * *

Tenma lets his arm drop to the side, the script in his hand brushing along his pants leg. “Are you sure you wanna go in this direction for the new play, Tsuzuru-san? It’s kind of…”

“This is just a draft,” Tsuzuru cuts in quickly. “But since you and Sakuya are co-leads, I wanted you to run over it before I settle on the direction.”

“And Muku…?” Tenma raises his eyebrow suspiciously. Muku shuffles nervously next to Tsuzuru, picking at his fingernails and never once looking anyone in the eye.

Tsuzuru just shrugs, but a pointed glance at Sakuya tells Tenma all he needs to know. “Muku lent me some manga for inspiration, so I want his input for this. You know, to make sure it has the impact I’m going for.”

“Thank you, Tsuzuru-kun, Muku-kun!” Sakuya says, waving his own copy of the script in the air. “I’m glad we can help out this time around.”

“Well, it’s kind of experimental for me, so…” Tsuzuru trails off, lets his eyes linger just a moment too long on Tenma. “Thanks for doing this.”

Sakuya is completely ignorant to this obvious setup, Tenma has realized. He’s the only one that doesn’t know that Tsuzuru and Muku are conspiring, trying to ruin Tenma’s miserable life even more. At this point, it’s just rubbing salt in his ever-bleeding wound, and as he looks at the couple of pages in his hand his heart sinks low in his stomach.

He’s an actor, but can he separate reality from fiction here? Can he keep his own feelings from bleeding into this confession scene, stop his heart from pounding against his chest, fight back against the gloom pushing down his shoulders, the pessimism pooling like quicksand around his feet?

He’d already said that he was giving up, that there was no way in hell he would ever be able to successfully confess his feelings to Sakuya. And even now, this script is nothing more than just that, a _script,_ and Sakuya surely won’t read further into it.

How regrettable.

He musters up every ounce of professionalism he has in him and begins reading.

“Tony, I—” His throat catches on the words.

Sakuya lurches forward, straight into Tenma’s arms. “Luca… even in the end, your face is all I can see.”

Under Sakuya’s weight, they sink to the floor, Sakuya gripping at his abdomen with one hand, the script crumpled in the other. Tenma pulls Sakuya into his lap and ignores the way his body reacts. “Don’t say that. There’s so much you haven’t seen yet, more than just me.”

“I’ve seen all I want to see.” Sakuya closes his eyes. “Ah, Luca, I’m tired…”

“Don’t!” Tenma grips at Sakuya’s shoulder, shakes him once. “Don’t go to sleep yet. I haven’t—I haven’t said everything I need to say.”

Sakuya coughs, groans, the fictional bullet in his side bleeding the life out of him. When he speaks again, his voice is hoarse. “You don’t need to say anything else.”

“No, I do.” Tenma clears his throat, blinks back the tears in his eyes before they can fall onto Sakuya’s cheeks. “Tony, I… I love you. I always have. Ever since I first saw you… the way you light up the room, the way you pull everyone in with that smile of yours… I can’t live without that smile. Please, Tony. Please don’t leave me.”

Sakuya’s smile is serene, a balm breathing cool air on Tenma’s hot face. “Is that true? Then I’m… happy. I can die with no regrets.”

“Tony!”

“Luca.” Sakuya takes a shaky breath and reaches up, letting go of his script. Tenma watches it flutter to the floor, entirely forgotten. Sakuya curls his fingers around Tenma’s script and pushes it down, so that now they’re staring each other in the eyes, as if their souls have been bared and there are no longer any pretenses between them. “You’re everything I wish I could be, everything I wish I could have been. I’ve always looked up to you, and—and this past week I… I realized there’s more to my feelings than just admiration. You helped me see that.”

Sakuya takes a breath. Tenma holds his.

“I love you, too,” Sakuya says. “Tenma-kun.”

That.

That was definitely his name just then.

He wasn’t imagining it.

Was he?

Sakuya doesn’t look like he’s dying anymore, and the arm wrapped around his abdomen has relaxed, his fingers playing gently with the hem of his hoodie.

“We, uh,” Muku hedges, his voice infinitely distant, “we’ll leave you alone.”

Tenma doesn’t acknowledge either of them even when the door slams closed, leaving them alone together.

“Tenma-kun,” Sakuya repeats, and the sound of his name on his tongue is a melody no orchestra could reproduce. He pushes himself up so that they’re both kneeling. He frowns. “Are you okay?”

Tenma realizes he hasn’t spoken this whole time.

“I—” He looks down, looks away, looks anywhere that isn’t at Sakuya. “That wasn’t in the script.”

Sakuya’s giggles are light. “Of course they weren’t. I wasn’t acting.”

“Wasn’t…” Tenma’s heart comes to a stop, then speeds up, then stops again before kicking into overdrive. “Then—?!”

“I like you, Tenma-kun.” Sakuya leans in, eyes wide and innocent and vulnerable and everything Tenma fell in love with. His eyes dart down toward Tenma’s lips, then back up to meet Tenma’s gaze, and then his smile falls and he jumps back. “Ah—!! S–sorry, Tenma-kun, I got a little carried away…”

Tenma’s face is burning with the heat of the summer sun, but he forces himself to react, to shake his head and reach out with trembling fingers, taking Sakuya’s and threading them together, gently, slowly. “No, I… you, I’m the—I, the same. I’ve been trying to—well, everyone’s been helping me to… um. What I mean is—”

“Can I kiss you?” Sakuya’s question is sudden, but his eyes are bright and his lips are an irresistible pink and Tenma’s thoughts fly right out of his head then.

He doesn’t think; he just leans forward, everything he’s bottled up flooding out all at once.

Then his forehead blooms with pain as they collide and he knocks Sakuya backward, sending him crashing to the floor with a loud grunt. Tenma’s hand flies to his head and he jerks back, landing on his ass painfully with only one hand to steady him. “Sakuya—!”

Sakuya moans pitifully, face pressed into the floor. “Ah… are you okay, Tenma-kun?”

“I’m—” Well, he’s not exactly fine, but, “I’m fine, are you—? Sorry, I—”

Sakuya pushes himself up all in one motion, hair bouncing everywhere. “No, it’s fine! I’m fine, so…!”

Tenma crawls forward and pushes Sakuya’s hair back to check for any bruising. It’s spotless, which is more than he can probably say for his own forehead, and it lets him breathe a little easier knowing he didn’t cause any lasting damage.

They seem to realize how close they are at the same moment, and Sakuya glances away as his cheeks turn a shade of pink. He breathes out an awkward giggle and rubs at his forehead, avoiding Tenma’s gaze. It’s endearing, and Tenma feels a surge of affection flood through his chest, out his mouth.

“I like you, Sakuya.” The words somehow seem anticlimactic compared to all the times he’s tried and failed to say them. They’re simple, short, and they can’t possibly convey everything he wants to say to Sakuya, _about_ Sakuya. But the fog in Tenma’s mind is heavy with his presence.

Sakuya’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. “I like you, too, Tenma-kun.”

* * *

They’re sitting together in the living room that night, which was their first mistake.

Some movie Sakuya recommended is playing in the background, but Tenma can’t bring himself to pay attention to it, not with him so close, his knees curled up to his chest and Tenma’s arm slung around him. It’s quiet except for a particularly poignant instrumental playing from the TV, and Tenma can hear his heart beating as he glances down at the top of Sakuya’s head.

And then the door bursts open behind them.

Sakuya shouts and jumps away, as if he really were Sakuyus, Lord of Hell, caught red-handed in some villainous scheme. Tenma nearly falls off the couch.

But no, they’re innocent, Tenma reminds himself as he presses his hand to his chest and slows his breathing, and it’s only Banri who strides into the room, clapping slowly and deliberately. He’s followed by Itaru, then Citron, then Juza and Azuma and even _Masumi_ of all people, until everyone in the company are gathered in the room, all clapping.

“Congratulations,” Banri says.

Tenma groans.

“Congratulations,” Itaru echoes, his smile empty.

“Congratulations,” Masumi says with his typical bored frown, barely bothering to play along.

But Citron’s enthusiasm makes up for them both. “Congratulations!”

They make their rounds, blank smiles and incessant clapping to complete the anime reference. Tenma rolls his eyes.

“Cut it out,” he says, but Sakuya just laughs next to him, somehow enjoying this new brand of torture. And they do not cut it out, but rather continue in a circle until everyone has said it. Not that Tenma expected differently, since they all are way too invested in Tenma’s love life and way too invested in annoying him.

“Congratulations.”

“Congratulations.”

“Congratulations.”

Tenma leans bodily onto Sakuya and shouts with all the emotion he’s bottled up for the last week. “Shut the hell up!”

He’s only met with laughter, from Banri, from the rest of MANKAI Company, from Sakuya himself. So he gives up with a sigh and accepts his fate—he’d known nothing would ever go smoothly from the very beginning, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/aegious)


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